POLLACK PROPOSAL
An acknowledgement of the entropy created by my dedication to a vision. Entropy of community not fortified by my bespoke presence. An idle, wild sloth of a creative who dares to follow intuition over society.
In the process of preparing to emulate Pollack, I must engage what I imagine to be his sensibilities. I will learn of his canvases, his temperament among various relationships. The anger that drives his rage right out of his brain & body onto the canvas with such vociferous force, its echo will resonate forever. I want to engage the complexity of what critics dispel as throw away art, or anybody could do that perspectives. I plan on experiencing failure at every instance of my emulation, but I will give one hundred percent nonetheless.
I grew up surrounded by professional artists, and really good novices. When we would travel to St. Louis, my mom's hometown, I was intimidated to dare to think I could create anything on such levels as the basement full of “throw away canvases” my grandmother had kept of three of her four sons. I vertically severed my left hand accidently at 5, in a freak accident in the living room. I horizontally severed the same hand a year later on the sliding board at school. As I returned to school from recovery, it was time to learn printing. I felt like I should use my left hand, but also with my little kid logic, I thought my stigmata covered left hand was cursed, so I forced myself to write right handed. The handwriting grade of U the following year did not improve my dexterous esteem. It wasn’t until I began to edit Saturday morning cartoons via two vhs players, with anachronistic music, that I found my spark. Somehow watching Fat Albert chant Public Enemy lyrics was funny, mind-blowing & relevant.
It is with this recollection of breaking through the creative stargate that I approach a task so daunting that even a classically trained master might not attempt such a pompous reimagining.
My process during this endeavor to make an impressionistic representation of a master abstract artist has utilized the tool of unconscious ejaculation. A lifelong recognition of the disparate uniforms of artists I appreciated, or artists I recognized as establishment, gives an insight and passion to my pursuit of satisfying my undying, unyielding and uncontrollable urge to graph sound and image from ether. Influenced by the radio, the stereo, the tv, the movies & the news, I emulated Glen Campbell, Walter Cronkite, Mark Spitz, Pele, Stevie Wonder, Richard Pryor et al. I would imitate voices and postures. My influences and heroes were not stratified by ethnicity. My goal is to create sans rote. I don't want to emulate another composition. I want to compose my own music. I won't trace or copy. I create from the process of practice. Practice in the effort to approach perfection, but recognizing how illuminating accidents & mistakes can sometimes have a specter-like glow.
I intend to startle, satiate, skullfuck, stupefy, sinch, syncopate, soothe, sin & save all viewers of the journey into my painterly self. A journey I take not to be regaled for as I recall its idiosyncratic details, but to be reviewed as a mobile destination; not a mirage or oasis. A physical place of artist placation. Tranquility.
An acknowledgement of the entropy created by my dedication to a vision. Entropy of community not fortified by my bespoke presence. An idle, wild sloth of a creative who dares to follow intuition over society.
In the process of preparing to emulate Pollack, I must engage what I imagine to be his sensibilities. I will learn of his canvases, his temperament among various relationships. The anger that drives his rage right out of his brain & body onto the canvas with such vociferous force, its echo will resonate forever. I want to engage the complexity of what critics dispel as throw away art, or anybody could do that perspectives. I plan on experiencing failure at every instance of my emulation, but I will give one hundred percent nonetheless.
I grew up surrounded by professional artists, and really good novices. When we would travel to St. Louis, my mom's hometown, I was intimidated to dare to think I could create anything on such levels as the basement full of “throw away canvases” my grandmother had kept of three of her four sons. I vertically severed my left hand accidently at 5, in a freak accident in the living room. I horizontally severed the same hand a year later on the sliding board at school. As I returned to school from recovery, it was time to learn printing. I felt like I should use my left hand, but also with my little kid logic, I thought my stigmata covered left hand was cursed, so I forced myself to write right handed. The handwriting grade of U the following year did not improve my dexterous esteem. It wasn’t until I began to edit Saturday morning cartoons via two vhs players, with anachronistic music, that I found my spark. Somehow watching Fat Albert chant Public Enemy lyrics was funny, mind-blowing & relevant.
It is with this recollection of breaking through the creative stargate that I approach a task so daunting that even a classically trained master might not attempt such a pompous reimagining.
My process during this endeavor to make an impressionistic representation of a master abstract artist has utilized the tool of unconscious ejaculation. A lifelong recognition of the disparate uniforms of artists I appreciated, or artists I recognized as establishment, gives an insight and passion to my pursuit of satisfying my undying, unyielding and uncontrollable urge to graph sound and image from ether. Influenced by the radio, the stereo, the tv, the movies & the news, I emulated Glen Campbell, Walter Cronkite, Mark Spitz, Pele, Stevie Wonder, Richard Pryor et al. I would imitate voices and postures. My influences and heroes were not stratified by ethnicity. My goal is to create sans rote. I don't want to emulate another composition. I want to compose my own music. I won't trace or copy. I create from the process of practice. Practice in the effort to approach perfection, but recognizing how illuminating accidents & mistakes can sometimes have a specter-like glow.
I intend to startle, satiate, skullfuck, stupefy, sinch, syncopate, soothe, sin & save all viewers of the journey into my painterly self. A journey I take not to be regaled for as I recall its idiosyncratic details, but to be reviewed as a mobile destination; not a mirage or oasis. A physical place of artist placation. Tranquility.
a symposium for non sequitur
My name is Luther Rayfield Ellison III, (Lu). I attended Wright State University several years ago. I was halfway through two graduate programs, (Photography, Humanities), and very close to completing several undergrad degrees: Eng., Psych., Criticism, Photography and Film Production. I attempted to transfer to NYU when a university employee committed a malfeasance against me. Even though a congressional aide took it upon herself to investigate my situation & had the employee in question jovially admit her intentions, and even after she said she would be my witness in court, I was never able to attain counsel, a several year's long process. All the international/national human rights groups said they could not assist me unless I was disabled.
After continuing my life working in the film and music industries, I decided that if I could do it once, I can do it again. I began at Sinclair in the b-term of fall '13. This will be my last semester as I will transfer to a four year institution to complete my film, English, photography, and psychology degrees. Post-racial is a term that came to life after Obama's election. I find the phrase infuriating. Not only because of my personal experience, but because the nation is in such a hurry to get away from its most egregious past. My best English professor at WSU, who invited me to take the Humanities graduate colloquium, was James Baldwin's last apprentice. He also introduced me to Toni Morrison. Subsequently, I have read all works by those authors.
I am a director, editor, writer, composer and producer. I boom operated & line produced a feature film shot in Dayton in 2000. I was also a producer & dj for the group Bonnie & Cldye back in the nineties. We had a number one song, "Homey Don't Play Dat", and we toured with Public Enemy for several years as they were the executive producers. I worked at record labels in Oakland, ABB & Hieroglyphics, and directed several videos for artists on the labels from 2005-2011. While in San Francisco I also worked at the Apple store, Sephora and Americorps as an after school physical activity coach.
I am eternally disappointed that I was never able to find someone to assist me in my dilemma, but unlike the immigrant doctor who makes his way to this county, only to drive a cab for twenty years, I will achieve my human right to earn a college degree.
After continuing my life working in the film and music industries, I decided that if I could do it once, I can do it again. I began at Sinclair in the b-term of fall '13. This will be my last semester as I will transfer to a four year institution to complete my film, English, photography, and psychology degrees. Post-racial is a term that came to life after Obama's election. I find the phrase infuriating. Not only because of my personal experience, but because the nation is in such a hurry to get away from its most egregious past. My best English professor at WSU, who invited me to take the Humanities graduate colloquium, was James Baldwin's last apprentice. He also introduced me to Toni Morrison. Subsequently, I have read all works by those authors.
I am a director, editor, writer, composer and producer. I boom operated & line produced a feature film shot in Dayton in 2000. I was also a producer & dj for the group Bonnie & Cldye back in the nineties. We had a number one song, "Homey Don't Play Dat", and we toured with Public Enemy for several years as they were the executive producers. I worked at record labels in Oakland, ABB & Hieroglyphics, and directed several videos for artists on the labels from 2005-2011. While in San Francisco I also worked at the Apple store, Sephora and Americorps as an after school physical activity coach.
I am eternally disappointed that I was never able to find someone to assist me in my dilemma, but unlike the immigrant doctor who makes his way to this county, only to drive a cab for twenty years, I will achieve my human right to earn a college degree.